


Slash.

by Skullie4Life



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: F/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, This was kind of a vent, Trigger warnings for those, sorry if this offends anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullie4Life/pseuds/Skullie4Life
Summary: You freeze. Why was he still awake?





	Slash.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, trigger warning for the following: Self Harm, Self Loathing, and mentioned verbal abuse. Sorry if this offends anyone. This was mostly made for a vent.

_ Slash. _

The new mark shines under the light of the moon. You watch, teeth barred, as it grows scarlet. Blood slides down the side of your arm into the pearly sink, staining it.

_ Slash. _

Another one. Closer to your wrist, this time. You take the blade in your other hand.

_ Slash. _

One more, on the other arm. It’s not as deep.

You place the razor on the countertop and clench your fists, waiting for the initial sting to pass. You shut your eyes tight to stop the tears from falling.

You deserved this, after all. The useless don’t go unpunished.

You never did anything right. When you were a kid, you did nothing but mess things up for your parents. “The family embarrassment,” they’d say. It would get worse. Later, they’d say “useless, stupid kid. Can’t even train their Pokemon right.” At one point, they even tried to get you help.

But the useless don’t deserve help.

Joining Team Skull wasn’t much better. You thought you could be happy, fit in with a bunch of numskulls who went through the same shit you did. Turns out, you still feel just as alone. You weren’t of much use - you never won a fight, never stole anything useful. You couldn’t make any friends...

You look down at the single pokeball attached to your belt. Poor Golbat was shaking the thing, trying to get out to comfort you. You moved your hand to gently cover it.  _ Not today, buddy. _

You looked down at the razor. Just one more…

“You know, you aren’t supposed to be doing that.”

You freeze. Why was  _ he _ still awake?

You don’t move an inch as Guzma enters the bathroom. You don’t move as he slides the bloody razor away from your hand and into the trash.

"Turn around. Please.” He murmurs, barely a whisper in the darkness. You listen and do what he says. After all, he is your boss…

Guzma gently takes hold of your left hand, the arm with the most damage done. You try not to shiver as the runs his free hand down it, as if he was counting the scars. You keep your gaze fixated to the floor, trying to avoid any and all eye contact. There’s a silence, for a while.

“How long?” You hear his voice again, but you don’t try to speak. “Look at me.” You do. “How long have you been doin’ this?”

“W-Why do you care…?” Your voice cracks at the end.

“Answer the question.”

You look back down to the floor. “A-A while, I guess.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. Gimme specifics.”

You clench your fists. “A year, maybe? I-I don’t see why it matters.”

Guzma sighs out a “christ”, runs a hand through his hair. “Why’re you doin’ this? Why d’you hurt yourself like this?”

You respond quickly, the only answer you know: “The useless deserve to be punished.”

Guzma’s quiet. You feel the grip on your hand tighten for a moment. Then, it’s gone altogether, replaced by both of his hands on your cheeks, sharply moving you so you’re eye-to-eye with the boss. “Who the fuck told you that!?” His voice is laced with venom, stormy grey eyes staring wide into your own.

You let out a sob and covered your eyes.

In an instant, his arms were wrapped around you tight as you cried and mumbled meaningless apologies into his chest. He was quiet, letting you let out your hatred for yourself - how you felt like dead weight, like nothing but garbage. He stayed with you for what felt like hours, holding you as if you would disappear if he let go. It stayed that way until your heart-wrenching sobs were slowed to quiet sniffles. Once you were quiet, he decided it was the right moment to speak up.

“Listen,” He whispered, pulling away so he could look at you in the eyes. “I dunno what you’ve been through or who told you that kinda garbage, but you can trust me when I say that shit ain’t true. You ain’t a waste’a space or somethin’ meant to be thrown away; yer a goddamn human being, and a damn great one at that. So don’t go tellin’ yourself shit that just ain’t true, aight?”

His hands slid back down to your own. “Another thing… there’re plenty’a great ways to paint yer skin, but this?” He motioned towards the scars. “This ain’t one of ‘em. Y’need to stop usin’ that razor from now on.”

You gazed at your arms. The fresh marks were still hurting. “I-I… I still don’t understand why you care so much.” You looked back up at him.

Guzma furrowed his brows, avoided your gaze. Was he… blushing? “Ya boy’s got his own reasons. They ain’t important right now.” He mumbled, turning his gaze back to your arm. “What  _ is _ important right now is gettin’ these cleaned up. C’mere, lemme help you out.” You quietly yelped as the boss picked you up and set you down on the counter as he went to look for a washcloth.

You were mostly quiet as Guzma cleaned the fresh cuts, only making a sound when he’d move his hand over a particularly sensitive mark, which he responded with a “shit, sorry” and proceeded to be more gentle in that spot. Other than that, you just watched as he cleaned and slapped a few band-aids on them.

“There. How ya feelin’?” He asked as the last bandage was applied.

“B-Better than before…” Was your answer. He was about to step away before you gently took his hand in your own. “Thank you, boss… you really didn’t have to do this.”

He scoffed, looked away from you. He was smiling, however. “It’s no big deal, really. Don’t think too much about it.” He slipped his hand out of yours, leaving you feeling slightly empty. “You should be goin’ to sleep. It’s late.”

“I should say the same for you.” You slid off of the counter. “You can’t be tired all the time if you wanna run a team.”

“I’m workin’ on it. It’s you I’m more worried about.” You couldn’t help but flush at that statement. “Now, off to bed with ya!” He gently pushed you towards the door, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

You turned around and looked at him. Quickly, you made the daring move to peck him on the cheek. “Seriously. Thank you.” You mumbled, smiling before you turned and walked off into the darkness of the Shady House, leaving him wide-eyed and flustered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd like, check out my Tumblr, where I also post fics: skullie-4-life.tumblr.com  
> I take requests!


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